


Bunheads

by SecretReyloTrash (BadOldWest)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Ballet AU, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Kind-of-crackfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 14:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11579871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadOldWest/pseuds/SecretReyloTrash
Summary: Kylo and Rey as rival ballerinas based on a joke on tumblr about a dream I had that went too far.





	Bunheads

**Author's Note:**

> So this:  
> "So I never totally got Reylo but last night I had a dream Rey and Kylo were rival ballerinas and Kylo was actually super modest and self-deprecating in a way that came across as really charming, more like Adam Drivers actual personality, so now I’m in a really weird mental place where I have a crush on soft spoken sensitive dancer Kylo Ren."
> 
> And
> 
> "But guys you don’t understand he sheepishly joked about how much time he spent practicing en pointe I almost died."

“Did you remember to book a practice room?”

Rey groaned, spinning on her heel to face Leia, who woke up at the ass crack of dawn every morning to do her stretches before putting hours of work into the box office and production meetings for the company and had no time for bullshit. Her mentor approached, mopping sweat off her brow as she exited her meditative hour reliving her past days as a dancer. Rey arched her foot, pressing the ball of it into the floor to stretch some of the muscles there as she spoke, a nervous habit that made her feel more productive when she was nervous.

“I forgot, sorry, I was in a hurry on Friday.”

Leia waved her off. “Just take one that’s open, you may have to share with someone who didn’t sign up. Don’t let their counting piss you off.”

“That’s why she broke my toes,” a grunt came from behind Rey. 

Luke, Rey’s reclusive  _“genius”_  instructor, wove past them in a gray ensemble that could have passed for pajamas to enjoy his day in quiet seclusion in his office. Rey was his only student, and he didn’t even acknowledge her until she worked to the point of almost passing out. Leia had very little patience for the mind of a troubled artist.

“I don’t think counting was what pissed me off so much,” Leia retreated down the hall, her silver hair in a perfect twist. It was some image for her to pass a massive photograph of herself in her twenties, clad in white and mid-leap. Ballet Mistress better suited her, but her prima ballerina days were constantly haunting the company. 

Rey watched Luke sulk up the stairs, muttering about how a family of artists should never work together. Tell that to her son, Rey wanted to grumble to him, but he was out of her sight, though they communicated that constantly during the many times they were pissed at Kylo. She slid down the hall, which was darkened on Saturday morning. Practices were only during afternoons by the end of the season. Casting was already starting, so Leia thought it best for the cutthroat dancers of this company to spend less time forced to be near each other around the time the cast lists went up. 

She passed another massive portrait of Alliance Past, two brunettes mid-lift in the tragic end deaths of Swan Lake. The lady all power and the man the lean strength supporting her. The company was half-built on their legacy of defecting from the Imperial Ballet Company. Their partnership was the the stuff of legends. 

Rey closed herself in the only open room she could find, planted her legs against the wall and leaned down, brushing her forehead against her shin to get a good calf stretch. While she was down there, the door opened again. 

She lifted her head, dizzied from the blood rush, and winced to see Kylo at the door, probably intent on sharing the room. He was wearing cashmere wrapped around himself. How like Kylo. 

“You’re here,” was a neutral statement made brutal by her flat tone. 

He shut the door behind him. She and Kylo never fought explicitly, but her obvious dislike of him certainly offended him quite openly. It wasn’t unfounded. He was pretentious, correcting her on the  _mythology_  of the ballets they took on, when she just needed rough emotion to guide her through the movements. Rey had worked hard for even a spot as one of the company in the Alliance, Kylo had an uncle and mother hand it to him. Not that he didn’t work just as hard, but still, she had her grudges. 

“I mean, have I ever been one to miss a practice?” he stared at the floor, a tentative truce in his eyes. If she didn’t know any better, he seemed to be making fun of himself. He notoriously had no life outside of this company.

Rey’s mouth twisted. 

“My mother,” he cleared his throat, because he always realized too late how that sounded “Leia told me I would have to share.”

Rey continued her stretches icily. “She informed me I probably would.”

“Well-”

_“What?”_

“Nothing.” He removed his wrap, beginning his own stretches. “There’s just something we both need, I’m just saying we can share it without being hostile to each other.”

Rey rolled her eyes, pulling herself through another spin. 

They counted mentally, because she went too fast and him too slow, they snapped at each other often in the first half hour. So instead, they came to a truce of silence, flowing through their choreography for separate acts. Watching in the mirror, there was almost a conversation to it. 

She knew what she was saying. Giselle would die from her own madness, her lover’s sword in her hands. She kept trying to remember who Kylo was cast as this season. Was he in La Sylphide or Onegin? Either way a woman was going to kill herself at the end, and he was the one watching. There was a lot of that in ballet, she mused, remembering seeing grainy footage of Jyn Erso launch herself through the air at the end of Swan Lake every time, ending her life as her deceived lover tried to redeem himself to the true recipient of his feelings. 

They both came to a point of stillness in separate choreography, and Kylo was reaching for her like he was trying to stop her. 

Rey was out of breath, tore across the room for a sip of water. She could feel his eyes on her. 

Could see them, shamelessly, when she looked at him in the mirror.

**Author's Note:**

> So my big thing is Reylo isn't going to get...too shippy until I know for certain they're not related. So this isn't going to be the most romance heavy. Mostly enemies to friends.


End file.
